


A Quick Fix

by Falcon_Etti



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Learning to trust, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcon_Etti/pseuds/Falcon_Etti
Summary: While Han makes a small repair, Leia tries to learn something new.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	A Quick Fix

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of stories rattling around my brain (A LOT) and most have been there for a long time. Decided to write them out and share (kind of a new, and hopefully good, thing). Thanks for visiting and reading.

She walked up the ramp carrying two datapads and an empty mug. It was still early in the day but the humidity was already setting in. It would be sweltering by midday and, Leia knew, they would likely be facing a thunderstorm by mid-afternoon. Someday, she hoped, they’d establish a base on a planet with a temperate climate and regular seasons. At least that’s what kept her going when faced with the extreme weather zones they always found themselves in. 

She stopped at the entrance to the Falcon's lounge when she saw him. Han was standing in the middle of the room with no shirt, no shoes, and a pair of goggles resting on the top of his head. He wasn’t wearing a belt so his pants hung low on his hips. She noticed the defined muscles just above his hip bones and the taught abs of his stomach then quickly looked away. He was holding, and closely examining, a broken razor. 

“What’s up Princess?” He is so absorbed in his task that he didn’t even bother with a ‘like what you see?’ comment. 

She kept her cool, didn’t betray that moment of admiration or, let’s be honest, lust. She put one of the datapads down on the game table. “I have the supply list, clearance codes, and contacts. We need to move things between bases so there’s a few more stops.” 

He didn’t respond but kept his focus on the task at hand. She noticed his hair, pushed back by the goggles, was messy and askew. 

“What are you doing?”

“Razor broke.”

“You could buy a new one, you know.” She gave a small chuckle. This seemed like a strange thing for such intense concentration. “It’s not a huge expense.” 

“This one works.”

“It’s broken.”

“Can fix it.” 

He wasn’t even bothering with full sentences now. Deep-in-thought Han always made her laugh. Not in a mean way. It was more that he got a far away, dreamy look when he was lost in some project and that seemed so opposed to the in-your-face, don’t have a care in the world persona he usually tried to project. 

“Maybe I’ll get one for your birthday.” She moved in closer to have a look. “If I knew when it was.” 

“I don’t do birthdays.” 

He knelt down to look through a toolbox at his feet. 

“What are you talking about? You’ve got me presents. And Luke. You even brought something back for Wedge once.” 

“That one was more a joke.” He pulled out a clamp and tried using it to hold the pieces in place. “I don’t do my birthday.” 

She noticed he was very careful to emphasize the MY part. 

“Pretty sure Luke and I could figure it out.” 

“That’s not the real date.” 

“Sorry?”

“On your background check.”

The clamp wasn’t working out as planned. He couldn’t get the pieces together as closely, and in the position he wanted. 

“Are you saying you falsified information on official Alliance documents?” 

He gave a half smile without looking at her but said nothing. 

“What else did you lie about? Wait, is Solo even your real name?” 

“It is now.” 

She was kidding when she asked, or mostly kidding, but now she couldn’t tell if his reply was a joke or not. He was still focused on the razor. 

He threw the clamp back into the toolbox and turned to her. “Hey, Tiny Hands, hold this.” He handed her the razor and walked off to look in a different pile of tools. 

“Why so secretive about your birthday?” She decided to leave the Solo question as a mystery for now. “You love being the centre of attention.” 

He returned with another pair of goggles. 

“Don’t want to admit how old you are?”

He looked at her briefly, only a quick glance, but he was clearly considering his options. She swore she heard a faint sigh as he decided to give in. 

“I don’t know the date. Got a general idea. ‘Member it was around the Coronet City Festival but that’s it.” He popped her goggles over her eyes then lowered his own. 

“Well, what does your birth certificate say?”

“Never seen it. If there is one. Ma was a kid when she had me. Probably didn’t know she was supposed to do anything.” 

He took her hands and showed her how he wanted her to hold the razor together. “Watch your hand on the blade.” 

“When’s the last time you celebrated your birthday?” 

He started the fuser, sparks flying around them, as he melded the pieces together. 

“When Ma was alive, I guess.” She was about to say some thing but he cut her off. “I don’t know. Five?” He checked the razor to see how the seam looked. He flipped it over and handed it back to her. Turning the fuser on, he went back to work. “Not like they threw parties for you in a home. Or like your crime lord boss made a birthday cake.” 

It seemed to her that he should be angry, or sad, or wistful for the childhood he lost but he was offering up this information with little emotion. She wondered if that made it sadder for her – that he didn’t think it was a big deal. He presented it like just a thing that happened that left no mark. He was more concerned about solving his razor dilemma than by what she considered childhood trauma.

He turned the fuser off and examined the razor again. He gave a slight nod that she assumed meant he was happy enough. He tapped it on a tabletop and it didn’t break. “Not bad.” 

For the first time that morning he looked at her directly and smiled. He took the goggles off her head. “Thanks Princess.” 

She gave him a half, but genuine, smile back. She held up her empty cup. 

“Don’t need to ask.” 

He turned and headed back toward the ‘fresher, tossing both goggles into the toolbox. “Leave the supply list. Chewie and I will look it over later.” 

She headed to the galley for a (much better than the base provided, always in need of despite the heat) cup of kaffe. 

She learned next to nothing from that conversation, walking away with more questions than answers, and, yet, somehow, it was the most intimate exchange she’d had in a long time. Leia wasn’t sure if that said more about where she’s been or where she was headed. She decided her smartest move, right now, rather than think about Han Solo, was to focus on the cup of kaffe and whatever the day brought her next.


End file.
